Pinktober
It’s October! As my favorite fictional character said, “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers!” The weather is cooler, the trees turn gorgeous colors, we get out our snuggly sweaters and blankets, make soup, and consume all things pumpkin. And it’s my birthday month!
October is also Breast Cancer Awareness month. Ironic, isn’t it? I appreciate all the support directed towards “survivors” during my favorite month. I know the vast majority of it comes from feelings of care and concern and wanting to do something for loved ones when you feel helpless. This warms my heart.
But I also think there is a danger in all this “awareness.” I know when I got my initial diagnosis, I thought, “Breast cancer is an okay cancer to have, if you have to have it. It’s curable, especially when caught early. ‘Early detection saves lives.’ And I get to join the pink sisterhood!” I had no idea that around 30 percent of women diagnosed with early stage breast cancer will eventually develop metastatic breast cancer – the only breast cancer that kills.
I think a lot of current so-called “awareness” trivializes breast cancer. Our representative color is one that is often referred to as “baby pink.” Cute things are made out of pink materials, not serious things. When the color that represents your disease is associated with childish toys or girly-girl accessories, it’s hard to take it seriously. You don’t see pink and think, “Death.”
I’m sure I’ve written here before about the lack of actual funding that comes from the sale of pinked goods. Again, I so appreciate the support and kind thoughts behind the purchase of these items. But maybe it’s time to evaluate whether or not this is the best means for getting out the message that breast cancer is a serious disease, one that’s fatal, even for many of us who caught it early.
A couple of weeks ago, I was watching an NFL football game. I quickly noticed that the players were wearing pink gloves and shoes in support of Breast Cancer Awareness month. “How sweet,” I thought. “These big burly men care about women and breast cancer.” And then the camera swung over to the team cheerleaders.
I guess I haven’t watched football in a while, because I was shocked by how small their outfits were. They were practically wearing bikinis. And let me tell you, those tops offered little in the way of support, if you know what I mean. I saw these women with their perfect bodies and compared them to mine – one marred by the effects of cancer and treatment. And I started thinking that maybe we could better raise awareness about the true costs of breast cancer if we did something with the cheerleaders rather than the players.
Imagine if every cheerleader represented an actual breast cancer patient. What if we shaved their heads and flattened their chests? What if they couldn’t cheer during timeouts because they had to rest on the sidelines, victims of the fatigue that so often comes with treatment? What if some of them became overweight or severely underweight, to show how often cancer and its treatment alters women’s body shapes? I think this might elevate the level of awareness we currently have about breast cancer.
Breast cancer takes over 40,000 lives each year and forever alters the lives of another 250,000 women who are diagnosed with early stage breast cancer annually (http://www.mbcn.org/incidence-and-incidence-rates/). It is a serious disease with deadly intent and our efforts to raise awareness should be commensurate with that.
October is also Breast Cancer Awareness month. Ironic, isn’t it? I appreciate all the support directed towards “survivors” during my favorite month. I know the vast majority of it comes from feelings of care and concern and wanting to do something for loved ones when you feel helpless. This warms my heart.
But I also think there is a danger in all this “awareness.” I know when I got my initial diagnosis, I thought, “Breast cancer is an okay cancer to have, if you have to have it. It’s curable, especially when caught early. ‘Early detection saves lives.’ And I get to join the pink sisterhood!” I had no idea that around 30 percent of women diagnosed with early stage breast cancer will eventually develop metastatic breast cancer – the only breast cancer that kills.
I think a lot of current so-called “awareness” trivializes breast cancer. Our representative color is one that is often referred to as “baby pink.” Cute things are made out of pink materials, not serious things. When the color that represents your disease is associated with childish toys or girly-girl accessories, it’s hard to take it seriously. You don’t see pink and think, “Death.”
I’m sure I’ve written here before about the lack of actual funding that comes from the sale of pinked goods. Again, I so appreciate the support and kind thoughts behind the purchase of these items. But maybe it’s time to evaluate whether or not this is the best means for getting out the message that breast cancer is a serious disease, one that’s fatal, even for many of us who caught it early.
A couple of weeks ago, I was watching an NFL football game. I quickly noticed that the players were wearing pink gloves and shoes in support of Breast Cancer Awareness month. “How sweet,” I thought. “These big burly men care about women and breast cancer.” And then the camera swung over to the team cheerleaders.
I guess I haven’t watched football in a while, because I was shocked by how small their outfits were. They were practically wearing bikinis. And let me tell you, those tops offered little in the way of support, if you know what I mean. I saw these women with their perfect bodies and compared them to mine – one marred by the effects of cancer and treatment. And I started thinking that maybe we could better raise awareness about the true costs of breast cancer if we did something with the cheerleaders rather than the players.
Imagine if every cheerleader represented an actual breast cancer patient. What if we shaved their heads and flattened their chests? What if they couldn’t cheer during timeouts because they had to rest on the sidelines, victims of the fatigue that so often comes with treatment? What if some of them became overweight or severely underweight, to show how often cancer and its treatment alters women’s body shapes? I think this might elevate the level of awareness we currently have about breast cancer.
Breast cancer takes over 40,000 lives each year and forever alters the lives of another 250,000 women who are diagnosed with early stage breast cancer annually (http://www.mbcn.org/incidence-and-incidence-rates/). It is a serious disease with deadly intent and our efforts to raise awareness should be commensurate with that.
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